


Think Twice ('fore You Touch My Girl)

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah, well, Santana thinks, sneering a little in Mercedes direction. I was her old best friend. So, take that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think Twice ('fore You Touch My Girl)

Rachel clears her throat in the center of the room, but since Santana’s eyes are closed she’d bet that no one looks up or pays her any attention except, apparently, Brittany, who jostles Santana’s head off her shoulder as she sits taller in her seat. Santana groans a little and winces at the sudden intrusion of light, but slides further into her own seat because sitting on the sides of the two chairs is even more uncomfortable awake than when she’s asleep. She rolls her eyes as Rachel takes a deep breath, gearing herself up for another long-winded speech.  
  
When Rachel glances over at Quinn though, her eyes lingering on the blonde, Santana sits up a little taller too, curious as to what sort of trainwreck Rachel is going to talk herself into this time and how’s she’s going to drag McKinely’s ex-golden girl down with her.  
  
“As some of you,” Rachel starts, casting a furious glare in Puck’s direction, “may know, I’ve recently begun seeing someone, romantically, and I found it relevant to inform Glee club, as my last attempts at dating someone didn’t flourish as I thought it would.” Finn ducks his head a little and Kurt looks up, mouthing the name ‘ _Jesse_ ’ at Mercedes. “Regardless of these failures, I am confident that this time, I have chosen a suitable partner and our relationship seems destined to last.”  
  
Santana lifts an eyebrow at Brittany, but the blonde is leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, waiting excitedly for Rachel to spill the beans. Santana sighs and drops her hand from her lap to the small of Brittany’s back, tugging down the top of her Cheerios uniform and letting the tips of her fingers slide under the hem. She grins when Brittany shivers a little and glances back over her shoulder, smiling briefly at Santana. Rachel stares pointedly at them long enough that Brittany moves closer to the edge of her seat, away from Santana’s hand, paying attention again.  
  
“As I was saying,” she continues, hands locked behind her back. “Quinn, could you stand up please?”  
  
Kurt shrieks.  
  
It  _has_  to be Kurt. There’s no one else in Glee capable of hitting that high of a note – so high it pierces through Santana’s eardrums and rings inside her head like the one time Coach Sylvester clapped a pair of symbols together right by her temple.  
  
Puck is smirking, legs stretched out in front of him and arms crossed over his chest, staring at Rachel as if he’s mentally undressing her.  _Probably is_ , Santana thinks, lips curling in disgust.  
  
Finn’s eyes will probably fall out of his head, the way they widen and bug. He opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, and Santana is amused when it closes uselessly, flapping open and closed a few more times before he slumps into his chair, clearly not sure if he should be aroused, appalled, or amazed.  
  
Tina’s mouth gapes open and Artie looks like he’s holding his breath, waiting for the punch line. Mike jerks in his chair, like he’s going to get up and dance, but then he sits back down, mostly looking interested in how this will unfold. Matt isn’t here.  _He hasn’t been for a while, actually_ , she thinks. Then she mentally rolls her eyes at herself, because really, _why should I care_?  
  
Mercedes looks the same as she always does, her mouth pouted in a way that she thinks makes her look like a diva and Santana imagines that she already knew about whatever this is, being Quinn’s new best friend.  
  
 _Yeah, well_ , Santana thinks, sneering a little in Mercedes direction.  _I was her old best friend. So, take that._  
  
Rachel nods, confirming Santana’s second worst fear - her first is spiders, but only Brittany knows that – and Glee erupts into various yells, protests, clapping, and wolf whistles.  
  
Brittany is the one clapping, bouncing up and down so hard in her chair that the metal legs pound into the floor rhythmically, kind of sounding something like thunder. Quinn looks up at them, the shock and fear on her face fading into amusement as Brittany keeps bouncing, smiling brightly at the two girls in front of the firing squad.  
  
“This is so exciting,” she yells over everyone else. She turns to Santana, her pale hand clutching Santana’s thigh, right above her knee. “Isn’t this so exciting?”  
  
Santana lets her eyes roam over Rachel, up and down her body disinterestedly as the shorter brunette crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. “I guess,” she says finally, watching the way Quinn angles her body slightly in front of Rachel, as if she’s protecting her. It makes Santana snicker and grin because she knows that stance; she’s been perfecting that stance since Karofsky learned the word ‘ _stupid_ ’ and there Quinn goes, pulling her own move on her.  
  
Brittany nudges her in the shoulder. “It is. Because they’re happy. Look,” she says, pointing, whispering loudly enough that she could just be talking normally. “They’re happy.”  
  
And Santana wants to gag, because as she turns back to the couple – only because Brittany grabs her by the chin and turns her head around – she catches Quinn smiling at Rachel, touching her shoulder quietly and briefly enough so that everyone, in their disbelief and panic and confusion, misses it.  
  
Everyone except Santana, who sneers and rolls her eyes and picks at her nails, ignoring Brittany’s catcalls at the couple who, out of the corner of Santana’s eyes, blush and tangle their hands together, sitting back down.  
  
Mr. Schuester, still a little wide-eyed, steps into their place and raises his hands, trying to restore the order he had before Rachel’s announcement.  
  
Instead of singing, Santana sits quietly, plotting and planning what she wants to do.  
  
\---  
  
She needs to get Brittany to leave her alone for five, ten minutes tops. She can’t do this with the blonde at her side; she’ll lose her nerve and she’s sure Brittany wouldn’t really understand it.  
  
Santana zeroes in on Rachel at her locker in between third and fourth period, sending Brittany after Quinn about getting extra help in math, because rainbows do not compute, and approaches slowly: a predator approaching its prey, each step calculated.  
  
The locker slams closed easier than she thought it would, clattering metal against metal so loudly that the entire hallway freezes and looks at them.  
  
Some freshmen dart around the corner, out of sight.  
  
Rachel, though, hardly looks amused. She continues what she was doing, arranging the books in her arms in what seems to be biggest to smallest, her planner resting on top. “Must you do that  _every time_  you decide to confront someone?” she finally asks, looking up at Santana calmly.  
  
“Well,  _duh_ ,” Santana says. “Got your attention, didn’t it, Berry? Besides,” she continues, casting a satisfied smirk over her shoulder. “The crowd loves a good tension-filled throwdown.”  
  
Rachel sighs, looks around and nods her head. “Point taken. Now, what can I do for you, Santana?”  
  
“It’s about Quinn,” she growls low. “Just what do you think you’re doing with her?”  
  
The shorter brunette opens her mouth – probably to launch into some tirade about Santana overstepping imaginary lines and keeping her opinions to herself – but Santana beats her to the punch, stepping closer and looking down at Rachel, scowling.  
  
“Listen here, Short Stack. You can play house with Quinn and you can take her to prom. Get matching bracelets,” she scoffs, ignoring Rachel’s oh-so-pointed look at her own bracelet. “Get married and have tons of little big-nosed show choir freaks and all that happy rainbow crap, but if you  _hurt_  her… I don’t care what is, break her heart, break her nail, give her a paper cut, make her cry, I will end you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her elbows pushing into Rachel’s shoulders as she does. “I will make you wish you were never born. You think slushies are the worst I could do? I’ll make you  _beg_  for slushies with the things I’ll do to make you suffer.”  
  
“Santana-”  
  
“I’m not finished,” she interrupts, poking Rachel in the chest. “If I hear one word about you doing something to hurt her, if I hear she cried even half a tear over you, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”  
  
Rachel opens her mouth again, but Santana isn’t quite finished yet.  
  
“You know the flag pole out front?” She takes another step closer, forcing Rachel back. “If you hurt Quinn, I’ll shove that thing right up your – keep walking, Ms. Pillsbury,” she snaps at the guidance counselor, finger poised to tap Santana on the shoulder. “I’ll make it hurt,” she hisses, turning back to Rachel.  
  
There; now Santana is done.  
  
Rachel nods silently, her fingers a little white around the knuckles, clutching her books.  
  
Santana smirks, proud of her handiwork and claps a hand down on Rachel’s shoulder, tipping the shorter brunette to one side. “Awesome,” she says dryly.  
  
Brittany sidles up next to her, her fingers grazing down Santana’s arm, her pinky catching Santana’s pinky, tugging her along.  
  
“Don’t fuck it up,” she says quietly, only to Rachel as they brush past her, heading towards Spanish, or Math, or maybe the bathrooms if Brittany keeps smirking at her the way she’s smirking.  
  
Rachel clears her throat, turning. “Okay,” she says belatedly.  
  
Brittany looks over her shoulder then back at Santana and smiles, a little confused. “Were you talking to Rachel?”  
  
Santana, eyes on Quinn who is striding down the hall, tunnel-vision on Rachel as she ignores everyone else, shakes her head at Brittany, murmuring ‘ _no_ ’ under her breath as they keep moving. She decides that Spanish or Math or History –  _it’s History_ , she suddenly concludes as they pass the room they should be entering – can wait; she probably got Berry-germs all over herself just by being within a five-foot radius of Rachel and she feels the need to shower with sanitizer.  
  
Brittany grins as if reading her mind.  
  
 _Showering with Brittany is probably better than showering with sanitizer_ , she thinks as the blonde sidesteps into the locker room.  
  
Quinn frowning at them and wrapping a hesitant arm around Rachel’s shoulders is the last thing she sees as the doors swing shut and she smirks to herself when she sees the tail end of a slushie directed right at the ‘happy’ couple.  
  
Santana sighs.  
  
Rachel better be worth it.


End file.
